quagmire of public life. Instead, he kept trying to persuade JD to agree to be a consultant for a feature film about his life and what had come to be called “the incident.” According to Sam, Williams was beside himself over JD’s absence. He’d even threatened to bring suit, which Sam and JD thought was hilarious.
As he walked along the tired-looking main street of Port Angeles, he contemplated crossing the road to avoid venturing too close to the Armed Forces recruiting office. He resisted the urge. Penny and Sam said he needed to have confidence that he wouldn’t be recognized. Still, it was weird and surreal to see his face plastered on brochures and recruiting posters. Withouthis permission—because the army didn’t need it—he had become one of this year’s model soldiers. In the shopfront window was a placard three feet high with his service portrait and the caption Real Heroes for the Real World.
Yeah, that was JD, all right. He was so real there was an unauthorized movie coming out about him, so real he kept getting offers to endorse a line of camping gear or sunglasses, even prophylactics. According to the unauthorized biography that had appeared just weeks after the attack, he was “America’s most appealing brand of hero—one who was ‘just doing his job.’”
Tina had cooperated with the publisher of the instant book. So had Janet. Jessica Lynch had gotten a Pulitzer Prize–winning coauthor, but not JD. His biographer was Ned Flagg, a failed journalist with a flair for invention and a fast Internet connection. The book was heavily promoted and just sensational enough to rocket briefly onto the bestseller list.
Feeling almost defiant, JD paused in front of the recruiting office. Through the open door he could see a round-cheeked boy talking to an earnest recruiter who was no doubt promising him the same action and adventure JD had been promised years ago.
He moved directly in front of the recruiting poster, studying it while the plate-glass window reflected his true image back at him.
The strange thing was, he hadn’t really gone to elaborate measures with some complicated disguise. Coached by Sam and Penny, JD had grown out his hair and was as surprised as the Schroeders when it came in a glossy dark blond. He’d worn it in a military-style buzz cut for so long he’d lost track of the color. He had shaved off his mustache, traded his contact lenses for an ancient pairof glasses and cultivated a beard stubble. “Backwoods chic,” Penny Schroeder called his new look. “They’ll never guess America’s hero is under that.” With the John Deere cap to complete the outfit, he looked more like Elmer Fudd than Captain America.
“I could mess up your dental work,” Sam had offered. “Get rid of that toothpaste-ad smile.”
“I’ll take my chances,” JD said. “I just won’t smile.” That promise had been remarkably easy to keep. Until today. Until Kate Livingston and her boy. He didn’t recall actually smiling at them, but he might have. A little.
Two teenage girls wandered past, popping gum and window shopping. They slowed down to admire the poster.
“God, he is so hot,” one of them murmured. For a moment, JD felt her eyes flicker over him. Shit, he thought. He’d gotten cocky about his disguise and now he was busted.
“Excuse me,” the girl said and brushed past him.
JD let out the breath he’d been holding and headed the other direction. It was crazy, completely crazy. People projected all their yearning onto an oversize poster while looking through the actual person as if he wasn’t there.
Shaking his head, he headed into the post office and checked his box. Sam had sent on a batch of bills and notices. At the bottom of the stack was an item that had not been forwarded by Sam. JD had requested it on his own, with unsteady hands and a heart full of trepidation. It came in a flat white envelope, weighty and substantial in his hands.
He couldn’t believe how
As he walked along the tired-looking main street of Port Angeles, he contemplated crossing the road to avoid venturing too close to the Armed Forces recruiting office. He resisted the urge. Penny and Sam said he needed to have confidence that he wouldn’t be recognized. Still, it was weird and surreal to see his face plastered on brochures and recruiting posters. Withouthis permission—because the army didn’t need it—he had become one of this year’s model soldiers. In the shopfront window was a placard three feet high with his service portrait and the caption Real Heroes for the Real World.
Yeah, that was JD, all right. He was so real there was an unauthorized movie coming out about him, so real he kept getting offers to endorse a line of camping gear or sunglasses, even prophylactics. According to the unauthorized biography that had appeared just weeks after the attack, he was “America’s most appealing brand of hero—one who was ‘just doing his job.’”
Tina had cooperated with the publisher of the instant book. So had Janet. Jessica Lynch had gotten a Pulitzer Prize–winning coauthor, but not JD. His biographer was Ned Flagg, a failed journalist with a flair for invention and a fast Internet connection. The book was heavily promoted and just sensational enough to rocket briefly onto the bestseller list.
Feeling almost defiant, JD paused in front of the recruiting office. Through the open door he could see a round-cheeked boy talking to an earnest recruiter who was no doubt promising him the same action and adventure JD had been promised years ago.
He moved directly in front of the recruiting poster, studying it while the plate-glass window reflected his true image back at him.
The strange thing was, he hadn’t really gone to elaborate measures with some complicated disguise. Coached by Sam and Penny, JD had grown out his hair and was as surprised as the Schroeders when it came in a glossy dark blond. He’d worn it in a military-style buzz cut for so long he’d lost track of the color. He had shaved off his mustache, traded his contact lenses for an ancient pairof glasses and cultivated a beard stubble. “Backwoods chic,” Penny Schroeder called his new look. “They’ll never guess America’s hero is under that.” With the John Deere cap to complete the outfit, he looked more like Elmer Fudd than Captain America.
“I could mess up your dental work,” Sam had offered. “Get rid of that toothpaste-ad smile.”
“I’ll take my chances,” JD said. “I just won’t smile.” That promise had been remarkably easy to keep. Until today. Until Kate Livingston and her boy. He didn’t recall actually smiling at them, but he might have. A little.
Two teenage girls wandered past, popping gum and window shopping. They slowed down to admire the poster.
“God, he is so hot,” one of them murmured. For a moment, JD felt her eyes flicker over him. Shit, he thought. He’d gotten cocky about his disguise and now he was busted.
“Excuse me,” the girl said and brushed past him.
JD let out the breath he’d been holding and headed the other direction. It was crazy, completely crazy. People projected all their yearning onto an oversize poster while looking through the actual person as if he wasn’t there.
Shaking his head, he headed into the post office and checked his box. Sam had sent on a batch of bills and notices. At the bottom of the stack was an item that had not been forwarded by Sam. JD had requested it on his own, with unsteady hands and a heart full of trepidation. It came in a flat white envelope, weighty and substantial in his hands.
He couldn’t believe how
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